7. Margo
Chapter 7
Margo
M y head is spinning when I walk out of the classroom. Caleb follows close behind me, a menacing shadow I can’t shake.
He said he’d do anything to win—but my heartbeat stutters, and the fear crawls up and down my throat. I can’t speak. And I have plenty of things to say—or ask—but I won’t give him the satisfaction.
He stole my first kiss. And then to feel his erection against my belly…
You’re not supposed to show fear to the enemy. Yet underneath it all, Caleb wasn’t always the enemy. He was a boy who I liked. A friend. We were closer than even Savannah and I, running wild together as kids.
I just don’t understand how things got so twisted between us.
I don’t know that I expected the warmest of welcomes, but I did think it would be better than this. It’s been over a week, and I still can hardly believe that he looks at me with such vitriol. No boy has shown me such hatred…
And I don’t know what I did to deserve it.
If I deserve it at all.
“Come with me.” He’s gruff, but he doesn’t touch me. Not since he dropped his hand from my throat and stepped back entirely. Every emotion on display—most of which were not positive—suddenly disappeared behind a cold mask.
I follow him without a word, although I can’t help but touch my heated skin. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a handprint seared there. Our route is twisting, down a level, across, then another staircase.
Finally, we reach the nurse’s station. It’s right by the front office where Robert signed me up for classes. Right by where I first saw Caleb and he pushed me against the wall.
The nurse sits at a desk in her room, and she looks up at our entrance.
“Hi, Ms. Peters. How are you?”
Why am I not surprised that Caleb can be charming when he wants to be?
“Margo isn’t feeling well. Mr. Bryan said it would be all right if I brought her home, but I just wanted to check in with you.” His voice lowers. “I’m afraid she threw up a few minutes ago.”
The nurse’s attention swings in my direction, and she tuts at me. She doesn’t do more than glance, because apparently Caleb’s word is law around here—even for the staff.
She scribbles a note and passes it to him. “I’ll let him know, thank you.”
Just like that?
His hand touches the small of my back, guiding me outside. He hands the slip to the teacher sitting by the door, who then waves us through.
I open and close my mouth, but then we’re outside. No one stops us, and…
“You aren’t serious,” I say slowly. “I can’t leave school. I’m not even sick?—”
“Can’t a guy bring a girl home?”
“Not when the girl is me and the guy is you.”
He snorts, unlocking his car as we approach it. It’s a sleek Audi. Matte black. He opens the passenger door and waves his hand for me to get in. I lean down and peer inside like someone might be waiting in the backseat.
The leather interior is black with lime-green accents, the screen on the dash already glowing with the car’s logo. It just seems excessive. All of it. If I was rich, would I go for this sort of car?
It’s an attention-seeker, through and through. The matte paint puts his vehicle at odds with everything else on the road, but he seems perfectly comfortable standing beside it.
Me? There may as well be a spotlight following me around.
With a long sigh, I climb in. He closes my door and circles around, taking the driver’s seat. The car starts with a push of a button.
“Well?” He eyes me.
I glance at him. “What?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Back to school.” I motion toward the doors we just exited.
“You’re a shit liar, baby. We’re missing out on the last twenty minutes of the day, not skipping the whole thing. Don’t blow it.” His gaze turns contemplative. “Or do. After all, it’ll just make things more… interesting.”
Baby . Is it better than the patronizing little lamb, or worse? It implies a familiarity that has long since eroded. But I also immediately objected to it—could that be why he’s sticking with it? Twice in one day.
I cannot be afraid of him. Even with the posturing and the games, even not truly knowing his intentions. My head is spinning with everything that’s happened in the last week—at least that much is true—but suddenly, I don’t feel like he’s going to kill me.
When some of the fear falls away, I can breathe a little easier.
Four months. I just need four more months, and then I can go wherever the hell I want. I don’t have to finish at Emery-Rose. Hell, I could get my GED and move to Japan, if I wanted.
Slight issue of money, but whatever.
I face him, my eyebrow lifting.
What’s the worst he can do?
And he knows it, judging from his expression.
“Tell me,” he says. Dark and deadly. There’s no crowd to witness his posturing, which leaves us with whatever monster chews him up from the inside.
There has to be something to knock him off-balance. Something that will give me the upper hand, if only for a moment.
I settle on, “Take me to your house.”
He tenses but otherwise doesn’t react. His blue eyes burn into my face for a long moment, then he finally nods. He backs out of the space without a word.
Now, I’m the one disappointed. It rings through me in a minor key, with too much dissonance to handle. How does he manage to make me feel so much with just a change of his mood?
“Now you’re playing the game,” he murmurs.
He guns it out of the parking lot. I gasp, clutching at my seat belt as we fly down streets we used to run through. It’s surreal, in a way. It’s a dream turned nightmare.
“What if I don’t want to play your game? I just want to end it.”
My grip tightens on the strap across my chest. He drives like a madman, but his car handles his speed well. It’s low to the ground and hugs the sharp curves. My arm bumps the window, and I grimace.
He ignores it, and soon enough—faster than anticipated—we’re turning into a neighborhood of mansions.
Listen. I know Caleb is rich. I knew it when I was ten years old, too. It’s hard to hide the fact that we lived in the guest house behind his, down the sloping lawn. Perfectly cut grass, manicured gardens, and a pool separated the back patio of the giant house his family lived in and the small two-bedroom one my parents and I did.
We didn’t always live there. I remember a cramped apartment in the city…
He pulls onto the long driveway. The gravel crunches under his car’s tires. It’s a circular driveway, coming down off the main road and passing by the front of the house before reconnecting. There’s a garage off to the side, and another narrower driveway that bypasses the garage and goes down to the guest house.
He parks right in front of the main house. Wide steps lead up to a wraparound porch, the wood-and-glass double doors foreboding. He twists to face me and grins.
It’s the smile that belongs to a madman, leaking darkness like an oil spill.
“Sorry, baby. You don’t get a choice.”
I blink, at a loss before it registers that he’s replying to my earlier statement about wanting to end the game. Or at the very least, not play.
No choice in the matter?
Great.
Without further ado, Caleb climbs out of the car. I take a deep breath and mirror his movements, following him up the steps onto the covered porch. He unlocks the door and opens it, gesturing for me to go in front of him.
This place…
Memories sucker punch me. Chasing him around, eating dinner in the summer on this porch. There used to be outdoor furniture down a bit, cushioned rocking chairs and side tables that we would sit at, listening to his mom read us chapter books.
My mother kissing the top of my head as she set down plates beside us.
All that, and I’m not even in yet.
My stomach twists. “I changed my mind.”
I back away, right into him.
“Oh no, you don’t.” He grips my arms and propels me forward, straight into the house. “You asked for this.”
“Caleb, stop.”
“Who said we could stop?”
I dig my heels in, but he doesn’t relent. It’s either walk or topple over, and I don’t think Caleb would mind either option. I finally take a step, then another, into the house that hosts too many memories to bear.
But the farther in we go, the more confused I get. Room after room, the furniture pieces are covered in white sheets and dust. The air is still and almost stale.
A chill rattles my bones, and I fight against the urge to rip myself free of Caleb’s hold and sprint out of the house.
No one has been here in a very, very long time.
“What happened?” I manage.
He squeezes my arms.
“Caleb.”
“I’m not sure a little lamb could be so direct.” He talks above my head to the empty house. We enter the kitchen, and he stops suddenly. Releases me to stumble ahead a few paces and stare at the huge expanse of counters and appliances.
This is where my mother worked. She was their private chef, after all. She’s the reason we ended up in Rose Hill, although the particular details of the job allude me. I was young, and it didn’t really matter to me at that age.
We didn’t eat with the Ashers—they weren’t running a charity, Mom often told Dad—but I was allowed in when Caleb was home, or when she was preparing meals for their family. I sat at the kitchen bar many times, doing my homework while she worked.
Everything has changed.
My eyes burn, and I blink rapidly to try and keep tears from forming.
“I don’t want to be here anymore.” I turn back to him when I have a handle on my emotions.
He regards me, and nothing in his expression is nice or understanding.
I move to slip past him, and he catches me around the waist. I grip his wrist, but my fight is half-hearted. This place, and the horror of it being so abandoned, sucks at me.
He drags me toward the counter and lifts me onto it. He parts my legs and steps in close, effectively trapping me there.
His eyes are level with my throat at this angle, but he raises his chin to meet my gaze. Everything in me is screaming to get out. Being trapped by him only heightens it, until my skin crawls and I grip the edge of the counter with all my strength.
“Caleb, please,” I whisper.
“Please?” He watches me. “Since when does please work?”
Please don’t tell them, Margo.
His voice echoes out of the recesses of my mind, so loud that I flinch.
“One day I’m going to fuck you on this counter.” His voice is low.
My body is a live wire, I just can’t tell if it’s the good kind or bad. One spark, and I’ll set this whole house on fire. One touch, and Caleb and I will go up in flames. His words are brazen, crass… but I’m leaning toward him instead of away.
“You’re going to enjoy it,” he continues. “Even knowing what happened here. Because all you’ll be able to think about is my dick in your pussy, spreading you wide. Hitting every. Fucking. Nerve.”
One of his hands comes up and palms my breast. It’s like he finally gave in to the earlier urge, and now he squeezes. Feels every bit of its weight in his palm. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips, and he undoes the buttons of my shirt. He starts at the bottom, working his way up.
“Stop.” I hate how everything inside me is alive in a way that it hasn’t been in a really fucking long time. So much hate, I don’t want him to touch me ever again.
Have I been numb before this?
Floating in oblivion?
Frozen?
He’s barely touching me now, just his fingertips grazing my stomach as each button slips free and the shirt parts more and more.
“Admit you’re attracted to me,” he breathes, “and I’ll stop.”
I bite my lip. It’s dumb, really, because I don’t even believe that he’s telling me the truth. Before, he said I had no choice but to play his game. Now he’s dangling freedom as a carrot, and a tiny, terrified part of me screams to say whatever I need to in order to escape. To claim my sanity back, because he’s slowly walking us to the cliff’s edge.
Once I fall, there will be no going back.
“Admit you like it, and I’ll stop,” he repeats.
He focuses on my bra, tugging my shirt open wider. Just the top button is left connected. My chest rises and falls quickly with my rapid breaths. He hasn’t touched me, and I’m already spiraling.
First kiss, now this?
Trailing a finger over the swell of my breast, raising goosebumps on my skin, he hooks his nail in the top of the cup. He digs in and pulls it down without hesitation. It exposes my breast, nipple pebbling under his attention.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
All I need to do is say stop.
Stop.
But I don’t. I’m too curious, too fascinated, to put an end to this.
He leans down and touches his lips to the flesh just above my nipple. And then he bites, sucking hard, and my whole body stiffens. My back arches, lifting my chest to him by accident. His mouth brings pleasure and pain wrapped together. Building until I can’t take it anymore.
“S-stop.” I push at his head, and my skin pulls before he releases his teeth’s hold.
For a split second, I imagine he will ignore me and continue. He’ll push me past where I think the line in the sand should be.
But then he lifts his head, his wet lips so close to mine we’re only a moment away from kissing. His blue eyes laser in on mine, taking in whatever emotions are written on my face, and steps back.
He smirks. “Afraid?”
“Of you?”
His eyes gleam, and he looks down. “I know you’re afraid of me. I don’t need to ask. Are you wet?”
I choke on my gasp. Being wet —God, it sounds so dumb of me to admit that I’ve never really experimented in that department. It’s kind of hard when I’ve had almost zero privacy. Sharing a room with foster siblings doesn’t really cultivate an explore-your-anatomy environment.
So, while I know what he’s talking about, and have tentatively made myself feel good at points in the past, hearing him say it so brashly…
“Yes or no, baby,” he says. “If you don’t answer, I can easily find out.”
I just shake my head, my eyes big.
His eyebrow rises, calling me out.
Waiting for an answer I cannot—or will not—give him. Am I wet? Maybe. He was just sucking on my breast, and the tingling sensation between my legs is still present. I didn’t notice it, but now that he’s directed my attention down there…
I shove at his chest, but he uses the contact to catch both of my hands. He maneuvers them into one of his, and his other hand slides up the inside of my thigh. My breath hitches when his fingers dip under the edge of my panties. He pauses, meeting my gaze, then strokes one finger down the center of me. It’s sudden and vicious, not at all gentle like my own hesitant wandering.
He does it again, more fingers dragging from the top of my pussy down to my slit. Pressing in just a little, then withdrawing. Back up and over my clit. I try not to react, but I can barely catch my breath.
When he withdraws, he holds up two glistening fingers. “Soaked.”
“You can’t just?—”
“Take what I want? Or get away with this?” He rolls his eyes and licks one finger. “I almost wish you were right. We stood in a hallway full of students, and no one batted an eye at your misery. Want to know why?”
He slowly licks one finger, then holds out the other to me.
I gape—but that was the point, wasn’t it? He pushes his finger into my mouth, swiping across my tongue. The flavor is barely there, but like salt and musk, and my stomach turns.
“Suck,” he orders. “And I’ll take you home. Promise.”
My eyes burn, but I keep my mouth open. He waits for only a moment for my lips to close around his finger, then sighs. He removes it and licks it clean himself. His lips close around his middle finger, and that uncomfortable desire makes itself known again.
“Mmm,” he murmurs, releasing his digit with a pop . “You taste like…”
“Like what?”
He smirks. “Like sin, baby.”
My mouth drops open again, but I’m in no danger of him shoving fingers down my throat. He seems more interested in leaving this haunted house, pivoting and striding toward the front door with sudden urgency.
I hop off the counter and follow him on shaky legs. Exhaustion settles over me, cold and thick. It’s good that we’re leaving, that I don’t have to return to school. It’s out for the day anyway, and I can’t imagine facing anyone who might’ve seen me leave with him.
He climbs in his car. Again, I follow.
Except the passenger door is locked.
He rolls down the window, shooting me a wink. “I said I’d give you a ride home if you sucked. You missed your chance.”
“You can’t be serious.”
But he is, because the window rolls back up, and he hits the gas so suddenly I have to leap away from the car. He reaches the end of the long driveway and turns, heading away from the school. The sound of his engine reaches me long after he’s gone.
Only then do my knees give out. My tears evolve into huge, hiccuping sobs.
From a first kiss to… this .
I regret ever being excited about coming back to Rose Hill. Not with a monster as the school’s leader.